


they say you can catch it (but sometimes you're born with it)

by Skornheim



Category: Loki: Agent of Asgard, Marvel, Thor (Comics)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Humiliation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slut Shaming, Uncle/Niece Incest, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:48:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26306602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skornheim/pseuds/Skornheim
Summary: “You’re my uncle, you know,” she said pointedly, trying to keep her voice steady, hoping he would regard himself as such despite their lack of shared blood.He laughed. “You got fucked by a horse. Don’t pretend to be picky.”
Relationships: Cul Borson/Loki (Marvel)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	they say you can catch it (but sometimes you're born with it)

**Author's Note:**

> I just thought it would be hot if AoA Loki got slut shamed for original flavor Loki's bad choices. It didn't turn out exactly like I pictured it
> 
> I apologize for any formatting issues. This was written on and posted from my phone.

Odin disappeared into the darkness outside the hut to gather his armor and ready Sleipnir for their journey.

After a few moments, Loki was distracted from her detached musing about whether she was a bad mother-- she hadn’t even realized Sleipnir had been here, and she hadn’t wondered about his whereabouts even once-- and how much responsibility she actually owed the original Loki’s children (especially the one that was a horse) by the realization that her uncle was _leering_ at her.

She looked at him expectantly. He didn’t lose his nerve under her scrutiny. 

“You’ve changed since I last saw you,” he said. She was much less flattered to hear it from him than she had been to hear it from Odin. “I can hardly believe you’re that scrawny little boy I saw across the battlefield.”

She wasn’t, but that was a secret, so she didn’t correct him.

“I like you better this way.”

“Thank you,” she said icily. “My opinion of you hasn’t improved at all since the start of this conversation.”

She knew her contempt was intimidating, but it didn’t phase the fear god. “Being a shapeshifter is convenient for someone like you,” he said. Bristling, she realized what a luxury living on Midgard was: she hadn’t heard a comment like that in months. “How does being fucked as a woman compare to being fucked as a man?”

No one had touched this body except her. Her only memories of experiencing sex as a woman were remnants of her past life. The original Loki had taken great joy in debauching Sif’s body in every way imaginable, but she tried not to think about that.

“I could teach you how to shapeshift and you could find out.”

It might have earned her a smack in the mouth, or even a challenge to holmgang, but Cul just laughed.

“Perhaps you can offer me something else. I’ve been locked up for such a long time, first alone and then with only my brother for company.”

“That’s really your own fault.” She doubted she would have been able to conjure any sympathy for his plight even if he wasn’t propositioning her.

“So cruel, but so beautiful.” He chuckled, not at all deterred by her obvious disdain, and loomed into her personal space. She stepped backwards and encountered the wall behind her, cursing herself for surrendering ground. It was too soon to panic, but she was already weighing her options. Could she take him in a fight? Unlikely, given that Thor had been killed when he tried. Should she run for the door? How long until Odin got back? Would he even bother to defend her from his brother? He had never had much concern for Loki’s wellbeing.

“I have a weakness for green eyes,” Cul said, brushing a strand of her hair out of her face, the better to see them.

“I know,” she mumbled. It was her fault, after all. Well, it was the fault of the previous inhabitant of this body, and since it _was_ her fault he no longer existed, she might as well assume responsibility.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He looked at her strangely for a moment, but ultimately seemed to decide it wasn’t important enough to distract him from his objective, and curled his hands around her waist. He was so large compared to her current form, and his hands nearly encircled her midsection, caging in the butterflies that took unauthorized flight there.

“You’re my uncle, you know,” she said pointedly, trying to keep her voice steady, hoping he would regard himself as such despite their lack of shared blood.

He laughed. “You got fucked by a horse. Don’t pretend to be picky.”

She flinched. The accusation that she actually _liked_ sex with horses was as was bitterly unfair as it was familiar: it had been a plan born of desperation, and the original Loki had suffered through the encounter and the pregnancy and returned home to titters and innuendoes from people who hated him so much that they were eager to believe he would enjoy being mounted by a horse.

He had never corrected them. They likely would have found the whole incident even more amusing if they had known how horrible it had been for him. The small chance they would have pitied him had been even more abhorrent to him.

“Did Odin tell you about that?” she asked in fascinated horror. Odin used Sleipnir as his steed, but he didn’t exactly keep Loki’s maternity pictures in his wallet.

His reticence had hardly buried the matter of Sleipnir’s parentage: even the mortals she hung out with in New York City mentioned the horse thing within five minutes of making her acquaintance. A grad student at the University of Iceland had emailed her to ask about it. But she wasn’t sure how Cul had heard about it.

“He didn’t need to. Rotting alone at the bottom of the ocean, there was little to do besides watch the House of Odin from afar, gathering information and plotting my brother’s downfall.”

It was almost a shame that they hadn’t met in her past life. They could have been friends—inasmuch as the original Loki had had friends, which was to say they could have teamed up and then mutually betrayed one another when their interests diverted.

“I know all about you, Loki,” he said, trailing his hands up her ribs and grasping her breasts. Even through the layers of her shirt and her mail, she felt his touch on her nipples, which stiffened incriminatingly. “I’ve seen nearly every horrible thing you’ve ever done, either for pleasure or power. Truly disgusting things. Things that shocked even me.”

 _She_ had hardly had the time to do anything wrong, but she had the original Loki’s memories, and much as she wanted to distance herself from the person she had been in her first life, there were a few whose awful contents excited her almost as much as they embarrassed her. The two feelings may have been inextricable, if she was being honest.

But she wasn’t going to let _him_ know that. “That was the old Loki,” she said, trying to sound as irritated as she felt, which was somewhat difficult as he kneaded her breasts. How was she meant to change if no one would let her?

She put her hands on Cul’s chest in preparation to push him away. “I don’t share his appetites. I’m not interested.”

It wasn’t an explicit refusal. If she didn’t give one, she could maintain the illusion of control no matter what he did to her.

“I would be a fool to take the god of lies at his word.” Cul dipped one hand inside the waistband of her leggings to discover the truth for himself.

His fingers brushed against her clit in their quest to find her folds but they didn’t linger there. It figured. Nevertheless, it felt good when his fingers breached her. She was wet and they slipped inside easily enough, though they felt dramatically large inside her. The sensations they provoked were still so new that she had no defense against them.

She clutched his shirt in her fists and sagged against the wall behind her when her knees failed her. Maybe her reluctance had only been a lie she was telling herself. It was hard to keep track.

“I knew it.” His breath was hot and disgusting on her neck as he pumped his fingers deep into her core. She hoped he wouldn’t try to kiss her, but the wet drag of his tongue on her throat made her shiver with unwanted pleasure.

“Shut up,” she moaned.

She could smell her own arousal through her leggings, permeating the room. She was actively bucking against her uncle’s hand now, eyes screwed shut. He mauled her breast with his other hand while his fingers speared her over and over again, the heel of his hand rubbing against her clit in a way that was becoming painful by the time her orgasm washed over her. She rode his pumping fingers until they withdrew.

Odin chose that moment to return.

“Loki!” he barked.

Her father’s voice was a pretty effective anaphrodisiac, and it startled her from her post-orgasmic fog.

Cul didn’t look at all ashamed to be caught by his brother in such a compromising position with his niece. He sucked his fingers slowly with audible enjoyment while maintaining eye contact with Loki, parting her from her mistaken belief that she couldn’t be any more mortified than she already was.

“Come and find me again sometime,” Cul offered. “We can finish what we started.”

“I don’t think I will,” Loki gritted out, though she recognized the futility of trying to regain her dignity with a second rejection when the first had been ignored.

He merely shrugged, like it made little difference to him, before nodding to his stony brother and slipping out into the sunrise. It was probably not a good idea to let him go, but they would have to worry about that later. There was no time to pursue; Thor needed their aid as soon as possible.

Though she was dreading making the voyage to Heven in awkward silence and drying panties, she couldn’t put off facing Odin. She turned to her father. He looked resigned, which was worse than angry or shocked.

“Loki,” he said wearily, like he had expected nothing better from her, like he thought all of that had been her idea. She’d noticed it wasn’t his brother he had chastised when he caught them together. Despite all her efforts, was she still more automatically culpable in Odin’s eyes than _Cul_?

Telling him what had really happened was out of the question; it required more vulnerability than she was willing to display in front of her father. It was easier by far to let him assume the worst of her and bite back the increasingly familiar anger and resentment she felt at being forced backwards towards the cage she hoped to escape.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know Sleipnir isn't really Loki's son in Marvel canon. I don't care


End file.
